


Greener Grass and Sweeter Flowers

by that_is_shocking



Series: Unusual Occurrences [5]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Choi Jongho is a good boy, Choi Jongho-centric, Drowning but not really, Gardens & Gardening, Horror, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:28:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23572381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/that_is_shocking/pseuds/that_is_shocking
Summary: Jongho's grandma was snoring upstairs now, making Jongho smile. Tomorrow, he would bring her to the new flowers. She always liked to see how well he took care of the garden.She’d call him “good boy” and “Precious grandson” and that made Jongho happy.Making her happy made him happy. She loved how his garden smelled. He’d always try to make her happy.Horror Fic
Relationships: Choi Jongho & Choi San
Series: Unusual Occurrences [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670935
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Greener Grass and Sweeter Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> yo TWs in the tags. Be aware when you read!   
> Also wash your hands and social distance!

Jongho’s house felt quiet. It always felt quiet, now that his grandmother had become bedridden. 

It made things easier though, which was nice. No little old ladies creeping around at night to ask Jongho where he had been, and why he had been out in the rose bushes in the dark. 

It was nice, but Grandma was gonna recover eventually, and then she’d be back up and about to make Jongho that much more alert. 

The kitchen lights flickered, making Jongho grimace. He’d need to change the bulb later, but not tonight. He had work to do tonight. There were new flowers to be planted. He had gotten a beautiful lilac bush from the greenhouse, and the neighbors had left another rose bush in the driveway. 

That was the only problem, there were always going to be new flowers to plant, he couldn’t just  _ stop _ , and let them die. His mother had planted them, when she was alive, and now it was Jongho’s job. 

His grandma was snoring upstairs now, making Jongho grin. Tomorrow, he would bring her to the new flowers. She always liked to see how well he took care of the garden. 

She’d call him “good boy” and “Precious grandson” and that made Jongho happy. 

Making her happy made him happy. He’d always try to make her happy. 

When Jongho was five, his mother had picked them up from their little city apartment and moved thirteen hours away, into her mother’s house. 

_ “She’s old, and now that your grandpa’s died, she’s gonna need someone to take care of her.”  _

Jongho had nodded. No one had liked him back in the city anyways. They said he was mean, and then he had accidentally dropped Kim Mingyu’s gerbil out the window. No one talked to him after that. 

They had arrived at the old house, three stories high, with a big empty basement. Grandma was beautiful, She had given birth to his mother when she was young, and then Jongho’s mother had given birth to him when she was eighteen, making Grandma still youthful. 

That’s why Jongho was confident that she’d spring right back as soon as her cold passed. 

The garden out back had been decrepit, and overgrown, and his mother had announced that she would bring it into full bloom again. 

She had shown Jongho her trick, taking dead fish, or roadkill, and burying it with the new plants to give them something to eat, to grow strong. 

When she had died, Jongho had planted three Rose of Sharon bushes over her, and set pavers and a bench, so that he and Grandma could sit with his mother, and be happy. 

After his mother had brought the garden back to life, she had started taking pictures of the garden, and painting it. She shared them somewhere on the internet, and the neighbors had found it. The first bush a neighbor had dropped in the cracked driveway was a hydrangea, dark purple when it flowered, and Jongho’s grandmother’s cat had gone underneath it. 

He hadn’t cried. He didn’t cry much to begin with, but he didn’t cry when his mother picked up roadkill, or sent him off into the thin forest around the property to bring back squirrels. 

_ “They need food just like us, and giving back to them, it’s the least we could do.”  _ She told Jongho one day, after he had brought her back the nearest neighbor’s dog. 

_ “And anyways, they always smell sweeter this way. Grandma likes them like that.”  _

When Jongho had turned sixteen, he had gotten his hunting license, and his mother had brought a cake back for him. 

The flowers smelled sweet, and cloying, and Jongho had taken a deep breath. 

They enjoyed the cake, and as soon as Jongho could, he went out and brought back a small doe for his mother. They had two Caryopteris bushes, and his mother had already dug the hole for them, in the now extensive garden. They had kept some of the meat. They had to eat too, it wasn’t just the plants, but the rest had been buried, and Jongho’s mother had sent the deer skull off, to be picked clean and returned, dry and white. 

That had gone out in the front lawn with the prettier bushes, for the spring crocuses to bloom around. 

Then it had happened, and Jongho’s mother was gone. He had cried then, just for a bit when he was shoveling the dirt over her, but that was it. It was over and gone, and he couldn’t cry about it anymore, he still had to take care of grandma. 

The car he was in tonight was old and beat down. It’s license plate sat in the passenger side footwell, along with a few others. 

Jongho had three cars. One that was for going to work, and getting groceries, and then two for his plants. He needed them, just to be safe. 

As he crawled around the backroads, and the few entrances and exits to the town, he hummed along to the radio. It was turned down low, making the drive feel gentle and pleasant. 

The drive was always the worst part. He’d get over it eventually, but the drive made him feel itchy, and a little shameful. 

He sighed, and rolled his shoulders a little. 

Up ahead on the road, someone was standing. 

Jongho was too far away right now for his dim headlights to fully illuminate the figure, but it was probably a hitchhiker. 

Jongho shrugged, and slowed as he pulled up closer. It was a young man, tired looking, but his thumb was cheerfully stuck out. 

Jongho stopped, and rolled his window down. 

“Hey man! I’m looking for a ride into town!” The man announced before Jongho could even open his mouth. 

Jongho grimaced a little, and then nodded. 

“I can do that.” He said softly, and the man pumped his fist. 

“Fucking finally! I’ve been here like all day!” He whined, opening the passenger door and sliding in. He smelled like the road. Bitter, and musky, and Jongho wrinkled his nose a little. Flowers smelled much better. 

As the young man clicked his seatbelt on, Jongho pulled the car back onto the road, and headed for somewhere to turn around. 

“So, do you know any good places to stay the night?” The man asked, settling his backpack in between his legs, covering the license plates. “Like, hotels or anything. I’m not picky, I’d even take a bus station!” 

Jongho huffed, and found the pullout. He carefully turned the car around, and the man sighed. 

“I’m San, by the way.” The man- San, announced. “What can I call you?” 

Jongho turned the radio off, and fidgeted with the air controls for a second before answering. 

“Jongho.” 

San grinned, and wiggled a little in the seat. 

“Nice to meet you man! Anyways, back to my question, good places to stay. Any recommendations?” 

Jongho stopped at the four way down the road. Straight ahead led down to the next town over, and then the interstate, and left went back to town. Turning on his blinker, Jongho turned right. 

The woods were dark on one side, and the cornfields were flat and endless on the other. 

“If you’re looking for a place to stay,” Jongho started, going slow so he didn’t trip over his words. “You can stay at mine for the night. It’s just me and my grandma, and she won’t mind.” 

Then, Jongho relaxed. That was the hardest part. Just asking the question made him feel shivery, and made his palms itch. 

San tensed up a little, and studied Jongho. 

“Really? How do I know you aren’t a serial killer? Or some crazy cultist?” He asked, making Jongho chuckle a little. 

“I’ll promise you. If you stay for breakfast, grandma could make pancakes.” 

San hummed, and shifted around a little, before relaxing. 

“Pancakes sound nice. I’m gonna trust you, Jongho. Don’t make me regret it.” 

Jongho nodded, and turned the radio on softly again. It was an old station, one that his mom used to listen to all the time. It made him feel a little less guilty for lying. 

“Why are you out here in the middle of nowhere?” Jongho asked, tapping along to the song on the steering wheel. 

San sighed, and slouched down a little. 

“I’m taking a gap year. Just graduated from college, and my parents kinda expect me to come back and settle down.” 

They turned again, and Jongho relaxed even more. There were three more turns before he was on the road that led down to his home, but he was getting closer and closer. 

San continued his ramble after a small pause. 

“I honestly might find somewhere on the coast though, and just stay there. Be a surfer or something. I don’t know. I just don’t want to go back to my parents yet.” 

Jongho couldn’t imagine that. He would give anything for his mom to be back. Maybe even his grandfather, because Grandma had loved him so much. 

“College?” He asked. San looked young. A year or two younger than Jongho’s own twenty one, but if he graduated college, then he had to be older. 

San huffed, and picked at his fingernails in the green light of the dash. 

“Yeah. College. I’ve got a business degree I don’t want, and now I can’t even mope about it to my friends cuz they’re off to their own lives too.” 

Jongho hummed sympathetically. San must be around twenty two or something. Business degrees were four year things, if Jongho remembered correctly. 

“What about you?” San asked, turning to him. “College at all? How old even are you?” 

Jongho shook his head. “No college for me. I have to take care of my grandma. And I’m twenty one.” 

San nodded. “Honorable. If you ever go, don’t get a business degree. If I could do anything, I would have gotten a teaching degree or something, maybe taught dance you know? I used to-” 

They were headed down Jongho’s road now, San still rambling on next to Jongho, but Jongho wasn’t paying attention any more. 

The little solar lights in the front few flower beds could be seen down the road, and it made Jongho smile. 

San seemed nice. Jongho caught something more about his friends, and how San was an only child, which made Jongho smile more. 

He was an only child too. But he doubted there were any more similarities. If San was a good son, he’d go back to his parents, even if he didn’t like to. 

Jongho used to not like his mom sometimes, when she made him take her a few towns over to pick up runaway kids at the bus stop, but if Jongho had the option, he’d always go back to her. Never away. He’d never ever leave her. 

He had hated driving back then, seeing it as terrible, and scary, but now his fear only twinged a little when he got into one of his cars. 

It probably stemmed from the instance when one of the kids his mom picked up had gotten out of the car, and Jongho had had to chase him down, careful not to kill him in his mom’s old green Subaru outback. He was fourteen, working on getting his learners permit when he was fifteen. She had had a death grip on his arm, and had been yelling at him to go faster, to hit him, to catch him. 

Jongho didn’t like it when his mom yelled. But she had stopped as soon as the boy, Seonghwa or something, had been bundled back into the backseat. 

Now, as he turned into the driveway, he sighed. 

He was home, and it was gonna be okay. 

The car went into the garage, next to the other. San huffed as he opened the car door, and Jongho slid out of the drivers seat. 

“You can take a quick shower, and I can whip something up if you’re hungry.” Jongho called to him, holding the door into the house open. “The bathroom’s down the hall on the right, and the guest room is next to it.” 

San paused, and looked down at the passenger footwell, his head cocked a little. 

But then he was shrugging, and hoisting his backpack up onto his back. 

He grinned at Jongho and stepped through the door, toeing his beat up shoes off. 

“You don’t gotta make me anything man.” He hummed, looking around as Jongho clicked the lights on. “I’m cool just to shower and sleep.” 

Jongho huffed, and frowned. That would make things a little harder, but Jongho’s experience told him not to push it.

He played the frown off with a sigh. “I was gonna make myself something, but if you wanna just sleep, that’s cool too.”

San clapped him on the shoulder, and Jongho watched him disappear down the hall. 

Jongho waited a second, to hear the bathroom door close, before he sighed again. 

He carefully slid his own shoes on, and stepped back into the garage, and headed out the other door onto the patio. 

The flowers smelled lovely at night, the sweet scent deep and thick. He took a deep breath to clear his nose of San’s traveler smell, before smiling. 

He picked up the shovel from where it was left leaning against the wall, and followed the little solar lights down into the garden, to where he was digging the hole for the new two bushes. 

Jongho brushed his hands against his mother's bushes, and hustled. 

He was working in the newer section, where he had planned out a big circle, with space for a little fish pond in the center. He hadn’t started on the fish pond yet, or put any pavers in, but he could see it in his mind. A beautiful little table for him and grandma to eat breakfast at, and a burbling little pond, with koi fish in it. 

The hole he was working on was next to an older plant, and Jongho had hit the skeleton underneath it yesterday. 

If he remembered correctly, the light purple butterfly bush was Hongjoong, an art student who had emailed him and asked to paint in the garden. 

Jongho had had to buy the bush from the greenhouse, after Hongjoong had stumbled into one of the holes one day, and met Mingi, the runaway high schooler that had tried to steal Jongho’s car. 

Mingi already had a pink Butterfly Bush, and Jongho had bought a purple one to match. It wasn’t all that important that the bushes matched, because Grandma didn’t care much, but Jongho liked having a little bit of unity. And that was either the sheer amount of rose bushes, or colors in certain parts of the garden, or matching flower types. 

Jongho sighed and looked at the skull, sitting innocently on the pile of dirt. Hongjoong was a nice man, Jongho would have liked to just keep him as a friend, but he had just wandered too far one day, and Jongho couldn’t do anything about it. 

So here Hongjoong was now, both a little name in Jongho’s book, and a happy purple Butterfly Bush. 

Inside, Jongho could see the light from the bathroom. San was still showering then, that was good. Hopefully the shower was nice, San seemed like he had been on the road for a long time. 

Jongho sighed, and began to dig. He didn’t have much more to go, just a little bit wider, and it would be fine for both of the bushes. 

The methodical work went by quickly, until his hole was big and deep enough. At that, he thrust the shovel into the earth next to the hole, and wiped his hands off a little on his jeans. 

Now, he just had to go back inside and wait for San to fall asleep, if he refused to eat anything. 

Jongho  _ was  _ hungry though, so he might just make something for himself. 

Two hours later, San seemed to be asleep.

From what Jongho could see on the grainy little camera feed, he’d been sleeping for about an hour, and that was enough time. Jongho still had to work tomorrow, and he couldn’t be tired for that. 

Rubbing his eyes, Jongho pushed his chair out from his desk and yawned. He scooped up the bowl he had used for the scrambled eggs, and headed down the stairs. 

He stepped over the creaky ninth stair, and past the portrait of his grandma his mother had painted. Then, he stepped away from the wall and headed down the second set of stairs. More of them creaked, and he had to be more careful where he stepped. His grandma had pretty good ears, and a knack for knowing when Jongho was sneaking about his house. Since she was sick, the most she could do right now was shout at him, but that would wake San and Jongho would have to wait even longer. 

Stepping lightly, he avoided the creak on the top step, and then the next three steps. The seventh creaked every now and then, and it normally didn’t for Jongho’s light steps, but Jongho didn’t take the risk. 

He misstepped on the second to last stair, making an ugly creaking sound. Jongho froze, and stayed there for a few moments. 

There was no shout of “Jongho what are you sneaking about for!” from his grandma’s room upstairs, and nothing from San in the guest room down the hall. 

Jongho breathed a sigh of relief, and headed to the kitchen. 

He turned the light on, and frowned at it’s flicker before putting the bowl in the sink, and fishing the key out from the chain around his neck. 

The cupboard with the lock was off to the side, and not easily noticeable, but it was Jongho’s drawer. There were still a few things from his mother in it, rags, a garden trowel, a thin knife, but now it was mostly Jongho’s things. 

From inside it, he drew out a bottle of liquid, and a hypodermic needle. He peeled open the needle, and carefully drew out the amount of liquid he needed. 

He’d gotten better over the years, after he had stopped hunting for deer and the like. He knew just the right amount to paralyze, but not kill. It was just enough to keep whoever he had conscious. It was important to bury them a little alive, so that their life could feed the flowers. 

Satisfied with the needle, Jongho tucked his hunting knife into his waistband, and picked up his book. 

He set the needle on the counter for now, and opened the book up. 

He scanned over the names quickly, picking out a few important ones. It started in his mother’s handwriting, and then changed to his own. 

_ Rose Bush, 3rd in a row from the kitchen window. Neighbor Eden’s two cats. Eden came to ask if we had seen them, but he’ll just get another later.  _

_ Two Pink Lilac Bushes, next to the guest bedroom window in the back. Kang Yeosang. Neighbor Eden’s nephew. I heard that he came here after his parents were killed in a car accident, and Eden’s his godfather. I think I heard he was sixteen. He’ll be happy under the lilac bushes. Good kid, made the lilacs a little redder. I think Eden’s thinking about moving away. The police didn’t even suspect us, just a little old lady, a mother and her son. Yeosang’s three years older than my poor baby.  _

_ Hollyhock Patch, next to the gnome with the wheelbarrow. Park Seonghwa. High School student from the capital. Probably seventeen, Runaway. My poor baby had to catch him with the car, and crushed his leg under the tires. How horrid his parents must be for him to run so far away. He fought so hard though, I had to put him under fully dead. I think he broke my finger, so I’ll have to go into the clinic tomorrow.  _

_ Raspberry Bush on the trellis by the shed. Kim Yonghwan, or Eden, as the neighborhood called him. He came to me last night, crying and saying he was thinking of killing himself, and was scared he’d actually do it. I felt bad for taking all of his cats, and his nephew, but this was an opportunity I couldn’t miss. The elderly couple from further down the road gave me two Azalea bushes, and he was perfect for them. I made him some tea, and took him under that way. He talked all about how Yeosang was his last family, and how it was his fault he died. It’s not entirely true, but if he hadn’t brought that kid to his home, he wouldn’t be under the lilacs. “Death follows me” He told me. It’s not his fault, I told him that. I faked his suicide note, the police think he jumped into the river. _

__

Then the handwriting changed to Jongho’s. 

_ Yellow Roses, the only one so far. Jung Wooyoung. It’s hard without mom here to guide me, but I knew enough. He’s kinda a friend from school, a troubled kid. Run away a few times. He spent the night last night, because his parents were fighting again, and I took my chance. Mom liked yellow roses, and grandma says they smell sweet, so Wooyoung would be perfect. I’m only a little disappointed that I’m losing the only person I could tentatively call a friend. The police won’t come looking. They think he’s run away again, and this time they won’t find him.  _

_ Pink Butterfly Bush in the fish pond circle. Song Mingi. He’s supposed to be in my grade at school, a senior like the rest of us, but he was held back a few years. I think his dad was abusive, he had a lot of scars. Maybe got knocked around one too many times for his brain to keep up. Nice kid, if not a little scatterbrained. I don’t know how old he was, older than me though. I’ve just started on the circle that I want to make a fish pond in, but I might have to wait a bit, I’ve gotten a job at a flower shop in town, and grandma’s taken more to tulips recently, so I might just work on it little by little.  _

_ Purple Butterfly Bush. Kim Hongjoong. God damn it. Hongjoong was a mistake, and now I’m worried the police are going to come and question me. He saw Mingi, in the hole I couldn’t finish. I broke his neck with my shovel and put him in the ground dead. I had to go buy a whole new bush to cover him up, because the white roses I have are for Yunho, the new neighbor. At least he gave me one of his paintings. I don’t know how I’ll cover this one up though. They might just leave me alone if I say Hongjoong was here, and then he left. God damn it.  _

_ White Roses. Jeong Yunho. New neighbor, takes a lot of medication for something that I don’t know. He invited me over, and I stuck him with a needle. It worked well enough, but I don’t think his medications liked it. He was very conscious and could still talk. I had to gag him, but I buried him all the same. There might not be another neighbor for a while. The house has started to gain a reputation after Eden. I don’t remember him much, but Mom’s diary had a lot in it about him. But since they think Yeosang killed himself, and then Eden, and then Mom, the house has a reputation. Fake Paradise I saw it was called or something like that. Maybe one day they’ll be on buzzfeed unsolved. Almost forgot to mention, but the police didn’t even consider me as a suspect. Just a scared kid, not very bright, who takes care of his flowers and his grandma. It helps that someone thinks they saw Hongjoong in town after I killed him. I’m safe again, but I probably won’t pick up anyone connected to the area for a while. Maybe just hitchhikers and runaways, like Mom tried to.  _

Jongho sighed, and ran his hands over the letters. Mom’s handwriting was so much prettier than his. He had tried to keep it pretty, just after she had died, but it didn’t work. It was okay now, but sometimes, looking at what he had written made him sick. Whether it was the handwriting, or what was written, not even he could tell that. 

He pulled a pen out, and flipped to where he had left off. 

_ Pink Rose bush, Lavender Lilac Bush. Part of the fishpond circle, next to Hongjoong and Mingi. Choi San _

He paused, thinking for a second. Hopefully no one would come looking for San. There weren’t any cameras or anything around where he drove at night, but you could be as careful as you could and still make mistakes. That’s just how life worked. 

He huffed, and started writing again. 

_ Picked him up off the side of the road next to Do Kyungsoo’s east cornfield. Very trusting, running from his parents and real adult life. Grandma is still a little sick, the head cold she has has been messing with her hearing, and her sense of smell. She can still smell the flowers though, which is nice. That’s the only thing that’s important. When I was digging the hole for these bushes, I accidentally dug up Hongjoong’s skull. It’s picked clean, and I think I’m gonna snag it, and rinse it with the hose or something. It would make a very interesting mantle ornament. No one would ever see it besides me anyways. Hongjoong was nice, I miss him a little bit.  _

And then that was it. If the police came around, Jongho made sure to write about the interaction in the book, but they barely came around anyways. Jongho was careful, and good. They’d called him a serial killer a few years back in the papers, after more people started going missing when Jongho graduated. The White Rabbit, they’d called him, since people seemed to fall down the rabbit hole and never return. But Jongho wasn’t a serial killer. His mom, maybe, since she seemed to enjoy killing, but Jongho did it because he had to. The only person in this world who cared about him now was his grandma, and the garden made her happy, and reminded her of Jongho’s mother, and Jongho’s deceased grandfather. It helped too that Jongho’s father hated flowers. 

Jongho was here to take care of her, and make her life excellent, and that was exactly what he was going to do. He was a good grandson, and it was nice when his grandma recognized it. 

Sighing, he closed the book, and put it back up in the cupboard. Closing it, he scooped up the needle, and headed off. 

He flicked it once to get the air bubbles out of the tip, and then took a deep breath. 

The guest bedroom door didn’t creak. Jongho was smarter than that, and bathed in moonlight on the bed was San. 

He seemed to be sleeping in just his boxers, and Jongho blushed. One of these days, someone he picked up would be interested in teaching him a few things about love and sex, but it wasn’t this time, unfortunately. 

San stirred a bit when Jongho entered, and Jongho sighed internally. So he was a light sleeper. 

Stepping forward, Jongho raised the needle. San’s thigh would be good, there was an artery in there, and it was closest, with one of San’s legs stuck out from underneath the covers. 

San blinked awake as soon as the needle pushed into his flesh. 

Jongho watched his face screw up in confusion and pain, and then San started to writhe. 

“Shh.” Jongho muttered, holding San’s thigh down, pressing the plunger on the needle down. “Just calm down. It’s just a little prick.” 

“What the fuck?!” San slurred, trying to shout, but not having the ability to get his voice in the right place. “What’re you doing?!” 

As the wriggling got weaker and weaker, and then stopped, Jongho let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

He let San’s thigh go and stepped up to the side of the bed so he could haul the young man up. 

San’s hands scrabbled uselessly at his shirt, and then fell limp. 

Jongho made sure to check that San’s eyes were still open and moving. That was the sign that he had done things correctly, and hadn’t gone too far. He’d gone too far with a few people before, the pretty young man down at the grocery named Minghao had just stopped breathing and gone limp, but he made a lot less mistakes now. 

Jongho grunted as he hoisted San up onto his shoulders in a fireman carry. 

San was breathing hard, panic probably taking root in his chest. The adrenaline wouldn’t be enough to overcome the drug that Jongho had used. 

One of San’s ankles knocked against the doorframe, and Jongho huffed. 

“Sorry, I didn't mean to do that.” He apologized quietly, before heading towards the door out onto the patio. 

There was a drop of water on his shoulder, and Jongho realized that San was crying. 

They always cried. After they figured out they couldn’t move, they cried. Jongho didn’t understand it. Death wasn’t awful, it was inevitable. Everyone died. Jongho’s grandfather died, and Jongho’s mother died. He had even been the one to find her, hanging from the willow tree in the garden. That tree had since been removed, and replaced with something that smelled better. Crab Apples were much better trees than Willow trees. 

Jongho carried San through the garden. It truly was beautiful this time of spring. Most of the flowers were in bloom, and Jongho took a deep breath. 

“Smells good, doesn’t it.” He sighed, speaking softly. “That’s why I grow so many things. For the smell. Grandma doesn’t care about much else.” 

San didn’t respond at all, but Jongho didn’t expect him to. 

“I got two new bushes today. A lilac and a rose. The lilac wasn’t taken care of, poor thing. Dehydrated to all hell. The neighbors give me their plants that they can’t take care of, they just drop them off in five gallon buckets at the road.” 

They wandered through, not heading to the hole yet. Jongho thought it would be nice for San to meet all the rest of the plants, and spend some time with them above ground. Maybe calm down a little. 

“I don’t truly know why, but it might be pity. ‘Oh, that poor stupid boy, and his poor mother. I pity that family, I pity that poor old lady, and that poor boy. What a poor boy.” He sighed, shifting San on his shoulder a little. 

The arm he had closest to him was covered in goosebumps. It wasn’t too cold, but it was nighttime in the spring. Jongho felt fine with his button up and jeans, but San only had his boxers. 

“I don’t want the neighbors to pity me.” 

They came to the Rose of Sharons, and Jongho paused. 

He sighed, and carefully laid San down on the bench. 

“You just have to take a second to meet momma.” He informed the shivering, and panting young man. After San had been carefully set down, Jongho sat down on the pavers and pressed his hands against them. If he tried hard enough, he could imagine his mother lacing her fingers through his own. 

“I’m still doing what you asked me.” Jongho breathed into the still night. “I’m being a good boy, keeping the flowers alive, and watchin’ after grandma.” 

San made a pitiful whine, and Jongho cracked an eye open. Once San had figured out that he could make noises, he didn’t stop, whining like a wounded animal. 

Jongho would know, he wasn’t that great of a shot. 

“You know, you could be a little more respectful.” He huffed, annoyed with the man on the bench. “Those Rose of Sharons are my mother.” 

That shut San up for a second, going pale with fear. 

Jongho took another moment to picture his mother sitting in the Rose of Sharons, before he stood up with a grunt.

“We’re not gonna do anything in her sight.” He informed San. “I’m a good boy, and my momma said in her letter that she wanted to be happy, and rest. She never got to rest. Not once.” 

He hefted San up into his arms this time, feeling a little silly for a second, picturing carrying a princess, or his bride. 

A princess would deserve roses. Red as blood roses, but his bride would get white roses. 

San’s head lolled around, looking around frantically, swallowing every now and then, and whining still. 

Jongho scrunched his nose up at the noise, the high pitched squeak was annoying, but it could be worse. He’d misjudged before, like with Yunho, and he didn’t want to rip up this flannel to make a gag. 

They finally made it to the hole, and Jongho laid San on the ground. 

He took a moment to stretch, and then he leaned down to peel San’s boxers off. 

San’s chest heaved in fear, but Jongho snorted. 

“Don’t pass out.” He told the practically gasping man. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” 

It was the truth. The fabric just always got in the way of the roots, it was easier to just bury flesh and bone. 

San didn’t seem to understand though, and Jongho could feel his pulse even on his inner thigh. 

Rolling his eyes, Jongho finally removed the black underwear, and tossed it off to the side. 

Drawing out his hunting knife, Jongho grimaced. 

If catching them was the worst part, this was the second worst part. 

It was infinitely easier though. Just a few little cuts in a few places, and then in they went. 

Jongho knelt down next to San, and flicked open the knife. San’s eyes widened comically, and Jongho giggled. 

“You look like someone painted you white.” He informed the naked young man, before carefully making a small incision at San’s sternum. It was only about an inch long, and down to the bone. 

San couldn’t escape it, and the whine increased in pitch, as San’s chest heaved. 

It was fascinating to see the blood begin to well up behind the cut, and Jongho watched it for a second, before moving on. 

He was about to make the second cut, before he paused, considering something. 

San must be confused, and Jongho would be a bad boy if he didn’t explain what was going on. 

Making up his mind, Jongho dragged over the gallon bucket, and positioned San so he was reclining against it. From this angle, San could see what Jongho was doing. 

“Don’t worry.” Jongho hummed, watching the blood on San’s chest for a second before moving to make his second cut. “I’m not cutting any arteries. This is just to make things a little slower. 

The second cut was at the point where San’s ribs separated, and San looked close to passing out as Jongho withdrew his knife. 

“These are just regular cuts, they don’t do much.” Jongho sighed, wiping the knife off on the grass a little. “And don’t worry. You won’t pass out. I know that passing out can be scary, but what I gave you helps with that.” 

Jongho had passed out twice in his life. Once when he was little, his mother never did tell him why, and then again when he locked his legs looking up at his mother’s swaying body. 

Both of those instances were terrifying, so Jongho worked hard to make sure that whoever he had over wouldn’t be too scared. 

Jongho moved down to just below San’s belly button. 

“Same as the others, this one’s just redundant. I think my momma called it a chakra or something, but she didn’t know much about that stuff. I just have to be careful here, and not go too deep.” 

San was making weird choking whines, and Jongho looked up as soon as the cut was finished. 

“It’s okay.” He told him again, a little more forcefully this time. “Don’t worry.” 

San’s chest was bleeding at a slow rate, and Jongho was glad. He suspected that the cuts were to make whoever went under the bush bleed out, but slowly, so they could become one with the earth, but he wasn’t sure. He tended to skip a few cuts that his mother made, just so that there was more time to understand that they were helping the earth, and feeding something important. 

Next up was the tendon at the back of San’s knee. 

It went with a fun little shink, and Jongho nodded. He quickly did the same to the other knee, making San gasp, before he got to San’s ankles. 

He lifted one up, and studied it. There was a cute little tattoo of a sun, and San’s toenails had black polish on them. 

Jongho made quick work of that achilles tendon, before moving to the other ankle. This one was bare, and he made the same incision. 

San was resolutely looking up at the stars, and away from Jongho. 

“My momma used to do a few on the arms.” Jongho informed him, frowning at how San wouldn’t look at him. “But the arms are hard. I cut too deep sometimes, and they bleed out, or I miss what I’m aiming for completely. It’s hard. I’m not stupid, but it’s harder than legs.” 

He dropped San’s foot, and stood up, brushing the grass off of his knees. 

“But that doesn’t matter, because I’ve got a better sedative than my mom, so I don’t have to worry about the things she worried about.” 

San was crying again, the tears dripping off of his chin and mixing with the blood flowing sluggishly out of the three slits Jongho had made. 

For a second, Jongho wished he was a photographer, because it was fascinating, and painted a very interesting picture. 

But he wasn’t a photographer, and he had work tomorrow. 

He lifted San by his armpits, and dragged him over to the hole. 

San had started whimpering again, little cut off sounds as Jongho jostled him around a bit. He made a weird gagging sound as Jongho carefully lowered him into the hole, and arranged his limbs so that he wasn’t all splayed out, and rolled his shoulders before standing up and grabbing his shovel, and the other bush he hadn’t dragged over yet. 

“You should consider yourself lucky.” He told San, as he nestled one bush at his stomach, and one at the crook in his knees. “You’re going to be beautiful.” 

San’s eyes were open wide as Jongho began to shovel dirt around his legs, the blood from the little wounds making the flowers around him smell a little sweeter. 

Jongho hummed as he worked, going quickly. The faster the dirt was around San’s head, then the faster he could go to sleep. The sedative wasn’t gonna wear off for several hours, but Jongho had to wait about twenty minutes after, to make sure San didn’t claw his way out. One had done that once, when Jongho’s mom was still around. His name was Park Jaemin or something. He made it almost out of the garden before Jongho’s mom managed to drag him back. That was scary because Grandma was awake and in the garden. He could have hurt Grandma, so Jongho’s mom put him back in the ground dead. He was a rhododendron, and sometimes Jongho pulled leaves off it for punishment. 

The first shovel of dirt over San’s face made San choke and blink. Jongho just had to keep going though, San needed to be covered. 

Eventually, all the pale skin was lost under the earth, and Jongho was left with two bushes in a shallow depression. 

He packed the dirt around it, and then sat down and watched. 

Nothing moved, and eventually the very faint high pitched whines petered out. 

Jongho waited though, he had to do it right. 

The next morning, Jongho woke up early. The garden was quiet, and Jongho stepped between the dewy flowers to the newest two additions. 

They were still standing, and nothing had moved in the night. 

He stood for a moment, admiring his handiwork and thinking about when the fish pond would be complete. Maybe he should put someone in the concrete of the fish pond. It wouldn’t be feeding anything, but maybe the sentiment worked too. 

“Jongho-ya!” A shout startled Jongho out of his musings, and he hurried back to the patio. His grandma was standing there, her nightgown hanging off her shoulders. 

The long white cane was waving around, searching. 

“Grandma!” Jongho exclaimed, instantly at her side. “You should be in bed!” 

The old lady sniffed at that statement, and Jongho sighed. She was stubborn.

“I’m feeling much better. I think I’m finally getting over this horrid cold. What are you doing out so early?” She asked him, thin hand patting his arm where he had linked it to support her. 

Jongho grinned, even though his grandma couldn’t see it. 

“I’ve got a few new bushes in where I planned to put the fish pond!” 

His grandmother huffed at that statement, and tapped Jongho’s arm. “You do too much for a little old blind lady.” 

Jongho laughed, carefully leading her off the patio. 

“I do it because I’m a good grandson.” He announced, making his grandmother chuckle. 

“You are.” She cooed, tracing up his arm to pat his cheek. “My precious grandson.” 

Jongho beamed at that, and led her down the paver path. 

“It smells so beautiful.” The old woman sighed, taking a deep breath. “You’ve done such a good job.” 

Jongho let her tap out where the pavers ended, and then carefully led her off towards the two new bushes. 

“Have you eaten anything yet this morning?” She asked, eyes closed, and basking in the warm morning light. 

Jongho shook his head, tapping her hand once. 

She clucked at him and pinched his arm. 

“A growing boy like you still needs to eat. Make sure you at least have a bagel before you go to work today.” 

“I will grandma.” He hummed, leading her around the curve, and into the empty circle. 

He guided her right up to the bushes, and then took a deep breath. The rose had a few rosebuds, and the lilac was beginning to bloom. 

“These are the new ones, a rose and a lilac.” He announced, and his grandmother leaned in to smell them. 

“They smell fresh.” She remarked, and Jongho nodded. “So sweet. You and your mother dear, you just have a way with plants. My dear husband, may he rest in peace, could never get them to be so sweet!” 

Jongho blushed with the praise, and leaned in to smell them too. 

There was a little blood on the grass, but his grandmother would never see it. 

“I wish I knew what you two knew before I went blind.” His grandmother mused. “I’d have a garden for others to envy!” 

“You’d have the prettiest garden for miles.” Jongho agreed, shifting a little closer to the old woman so she wouldn’t unbalance herself by leaning in to smell the plants. 

“I’m sure you do just as well as I ever could.” She sighed, stepping back to lean against Jongho. “Sometimes I think it’s magic, precious grandson. You and your mother work such a special kind of magic.” 

Jongho swallowed, and looked around at the many flowering bushes around him. 

His grandmother continued on. 

“I’m so proud of you. You work so hard.” She hummed, unaware of the skull under one bush, and the blood on the grass. 

Jongho smiled gently, and squeezed her arm. 

“Thank you grandma. I only want to make you proud of me.” 

His grandma smiled. 

“You do make me proud. I’ve never smelled flowers sweeter.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Ok. so I accidentally deleted all my notes and I am #angrey   
> Anyways, this one is for all the babes who read my other ateez horror fic, that one is more spooky, this one is more dark.   
> It's late and I still have homework because I ignored it all day to write this bad boy, so I gotta go.   
> Wash your hands, social distance, and be safe!!!   
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed, or want to yell at me, or drop a kudos!   
> Lots and lots of love,   
> -Alex <3  
> Insta: @that_is_shocking  
> Tumblr: @that-is-shocking


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